"You know," Sukuna suddenly said, right as Sanguinius led him to a grand door, behind which was a gathering of the other Primarchs. Sukuna felt their presence on the other side – some stronger than others. Just now, he realized there had been something rather odd about the winged Primarch from the moment they met, and it wasn't even the twin souls in one body. No, it was something else entirely. And now, Sukuna knew exactly what it was. "You'd be a lot stronger than you are now if you stopped pretending to be anything other than a monster."
"...What?" Sanguinius froze, wings half-flaring. His eyes widened, searching Sukuna's face, as though unsure whether he'd heard him right. Lorgar, standing a step behind, looked just as startled – but more wary than shaken.
Sukuna smirked, leaning casually against the towering doorframe.
"It's simple," he said. "You keep yourself in chains. Always holding back that bloodlust, that hunger, pretending it doesn't exist, because you're afraid of it. Afraid of what you'd become if you let it loose."
Sanguinius's mouth tightened, his shoulders tense as stone. A flicker of something dark passed over his eyes. Then, he dropped his gaze to the polished marble floor, breathing shallowly. "If I… were to unleash it, I would become nothing but a monster. That's not who I am."
"That's exactly what I'm saying," Sukuna replied, his tone almost teasing. "You keep fighting this thing inside you, holding back, when that power is yours. You think a lion cares if it's a lion? Or a storm for being a storm?"
Sanguinius's eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say, Sukuna?"
"Simple." Sukuna shrugged, crossing his arms. "Human. Monster. They're both prisons. Chains you think you need to stay in. But they don't hold me."
He tapped his chest. "I stopped caring a long time ago. I do as I please. That's what true power is – becoming a force of nature. Not human, not monster. Not good, not evil. Just you – and what you want."
Sanguinius's wings shifted, feathers rustling in a way that betrayed the quiet storm within him. His hand clenched around the pommel of his sword, but he didn't draw it. He took a slow breath, exhaling through his nose, his gaze locked onto Sukuna. "And what has that cost you?"
Sukuna's smirk faded, replaced by something sharper. "Nothing I wasn't willing to give. You want to be a hero? Fine, be one. You want to be a villain? Not gonna stop you. But that part of you you're so afraid of? That's what makes you strong. You keep pretending it doesn't exist, and you'll never be more than half of yourself."
For a moment, there was silence, thick and heavy. Sanguinius's expression softened just slightly, though his eyes stayed cold, wary. He took a single step back from the door, breathing deeper, almost grounding himself.
"You make it sound easy, letting go like that." He glanced at his hands, flexing his fingers as if seeing them for the first time. Sukuna sent a half-glance at Lorgar, who now stared rather intently at Sanguinius. "But I know what happens when I lose control. I've seen the destruction it causes."
Sukuna chuckled, low and harsh.
"Control? Who said anything about losing control? Master yourself, Sanguinius. Stop hiding, stop restraining. Own every part of you. Be the angel or the beast or whatever you want." He pushed off the wall, his stance shifting as he held Sanguinius's gaze. "You'll find you're stronger that way."
Sanguinius clenched his jaw, the lines of his face hardening. He seemed to be struggling, torn between something he wanted to say and what he felt he should say. Finally, he forced himself to nod, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll… consider it."
Sukuna's smirk returned.
"Think about it." He gestured to the door with a dismissive wave. "Now, we were headed inside to judge Magnus or whatever, yeah?"
Sanguinius hesitated, then pushed the door open. As they entered, the grand hall fell silent, every eye turning toward them. Some faces wore frowns; others, intrigue. But Sukuna's eyes were fixed on the seat of honor at the far end, where the Emperor himself sat, watching them closely. The Emperor sent him a single, faint nod, after which Sukuna sent a glance towards Horus, who grinned as their eyes met. Vulkan did the same too. Malcador sat beside the Emperor, but the old man merely regarded him with the cold stare and a slight nod.
Sukuna gave Sanguinius a final glance, one brow raised in faint amusement. Sanguinius returned it with a look that simmered between gratitude and irritation before he joined his brothers at the table, wings folding in tight like a reluctant shield. He moved carefully, as if the weight of his own shadow had grown heavier. Lorgar followed close, head slightly inclined, as though deep in thought, and settled into the seat between Rogal Dorn and Corvus Corax, both of whom held him under scrutinizing gazes that Lorgar, for once, didn't seem to notice.
The hall itself wasn't quite the place for judgment, Sukuna thought, though it certainly held the potential. An elaborate table dominated the room, stretching out in a stately line that was laden with gleaming, unfamiliar dishes. Unless the plan was for Magnus to stand there amid the roasted meats and crystal goblets, this was no trial. Sukuna let his gaze skim over the table, noting those present. Not all of the Primarchs had shown up, but he already knew that much; the guest of honor, for instance, wouldn't be arriving for some time.
The Emperor's gaze was unwavering as he spoke, his voice reverberating through the space. "Welcome, Ryomen Sukuna, to the gathered Council of Nikaea. I trust you'll find some joy in meeting the rest of your siblings, some of whom have been rather eager to make your acquaintance."
Sukuna let his eyes drift over the assembly with something between intrigue and dismissive amusement. The others had the odd flicker of interest, of course, but not all of them caught his eye. Lorgar was, quite simply, a weakling and therefore beneath his notice. As for Fulgrim, he had a touch more appeal with that almost fragile beauty, though he was weak in ways beyond the physical, judging by the reports from Malcador. However, there was a note about swordplay… something that could at least prove mildly diverting.
But Mortarion? Sukuna resisted a grimace as his eyes passed over the grim figure. Mortarion reeked of decay, the stench strong enough to put off anyone with even a fragment of taste. The scent clung to him like death's shroud – strange, considering that soaps were certainly available across the Imperium. Sukuna nearly scoffed.
On the other hand, Perturabo was something of a contradiction. Malcador had painted him as a sullen, spiteful sort, yet this supposed "petulant child" had created architectural wonders and seemed drawn to battlefields that would crush lesser commanders. There was a fierce competence there, hidden beneath the rough exterior. Perhaps there was something to be said for him, after all.
Sukuna's lips twitched as he noted one empty seat. Of course, Angron wouldn't be here – not that he would have made an interesting companion. He had a savage strength, true, but it was misdirected, frayed by those nails drilled into his skull. Whatever power or bloodlust Angron might have had was wasted, his mind stripped by that cursed machinery, left to smolder like embers that couldn't catch flame. In truth, it was Angron's failure to achieve true self-acceptance, to become a complete being, that had likely made Sanguinius so wary of his own nature.
A pity. Angron might've been powerful, even formidable, without the nails and the constant rage. Idly, Sukuna wondered if it would be possible to fix the Primarch's shattered psyche by tearing those nails out and saturating him in RCT. It would be a bloody, arduous task, but he could think of worse ways to spend an afternoon.
He sighed, letting the thought drift away. The truth was he had no real interest in meeting his supposed "brothers." The Emperor's order to attend the council was the only reason he'd deigned to show up. Otherwise, he would've already been halfway to Shibuya, mustering his forces. If Horus was indeed destined to rebel, he'd need numbers, after all – an auxiliary force of Jujutsu Sorcerers could bolster the Devourers effectively. But for now, until he could secure a victory against the Emperor himself, he was bound to obey.
He glanced at the spread on the table, vaguely interested. "Eh. Is the food any good around here?"
The Emperor's lips curved in a faint, knowing smile as he gestured to the table. "See for yourself."
Two half-human automatons approached, bearing a chair crafted specifically for him. He looked at the piece, noting its reddish lacquered wood and traditional joinery, each piece fitted seamlessly into the next without nails or adhesives. It was elegant and simple, a restrained beauty that reminded him of the craftsmen from his own era, back in Heian Japan. Sukuna let a slight grin slip as he settled into it, his interest caught, if only for a moment.
On his left sat Jaghatai Khan, whom Malcador had noted as the swiftest among the Primarchs. To his right was Ferrus Manus, whose metallic arms glinted in the soft light. Both carried a palpable strength; that much was obvious even without Malcador's reports. But it was the Primarch on his left who intrigued him most. In Jaghatai, Sukuna sensed a rare harmony – a balance that was nearly complete, with only a small fragment holding him back from total transcendence. It was that one missing piece that kept him from reaching true unity with himself.
Interesting. Sukuna wondered what it could be.
Jaghatai's eyes flicked to Sukuna's extra arms with a mild curiosity, one brow raised as he pointed.
"Did you do that yourself," he asked, "or was there some sort of transplantation involved?"
Sukuna laughed, a harsh bark that drew several gazes from across the table.
"If only it were that easy," he replied, stretching one of his secondary arms, letting its clawed fingers glint in the light. "This is a form I achieved, forged myself into, not some artificial addition. Took a bit of work, though. Not easy. But then – nothing ever is."
Jaghatai chuckled, shaking his head with a half-smile. "Seems like an unusual path."
Sukuna gave a shrug. "Unusual is overrated. A little imagination, and you'd be surprised what you can pull off. And let's face it – 'usual' never won a war."
Ferrus, seated to his right, gave a low grunt, his eyes shifting from the claws to Sukuna's face. "So you're not just a warrior, but a craftsman, too."
Sukuna tilted his head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Ah, he remembered now, Ferrus was also known to be a very skilled craftsman, forging mighty weapons and such.
"A craftsman? Maybe." He flexed his fingers again, each joint moving in harmony. "More like an artist, in my own way."
Ferrus's mouth quirked at the word. "Artist. Interesting choice of terms."
Sukuna's grin sharpened, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "And what else would you call it? Everything we do, everything we create – all of it's art, one way or another. You'd know that better than anyone."
Ferrus's eyes darkened, his expression unreadable as he looked back at his metal arms, each movement faintly echoing with the sound of grinding steel. The silence stretched, a quiet moment of recognition passing between them.
Across the table, Rogal Dorn watched with an intense, calculating gaze, his fingers steepled as though mentally taking notes. Corvus Corax looked on as well, his face shadowed and unreadable.
The Emperor cleared his throat, regaining their attention.
"There will be time enough for discussions," he said, voice rich and smooth. "For now, let us dine."
With a slight nod, he gestured for them to begin, and Sukuna's attention returned to the table laden with unfamiliar dishes. He grinned, his interest piqued again as he reached for a dish he couldn't name, lifting it with one clawed hand and appraising it with a critical eye.
Jaghatai, glancing his way, lifted his own glass with a nod. "To journeys and paths we carve ourselves, then."
Sukuna chuckled, raising his own glass.
"To the forces of nature." He clinked his glass against Jaghatai's with a glint of amusement in his eyes."
AN: Chapter 44 is out on (Pat)reon!